Kate’s Aphasia

I am not sure why, but among all the things that I’ve thought about, aphasia has been low on my list. I was well aware that if Kate lives long enough she would not communicate, but I didn’t think that she would begin this process now.

She has had some minor difficulty with her speech for about a year. The problem is progressing more rapidly now. Everyday words like pizza, olives, and hamburger are beginning to drop out of her vocabulary. Sometimes I joke about being her butler. She no longer knows what a butler is. Yesterday, I pointed to a fence that is being installed around a nearby hospital. She said, “What’s a fence?” At lunch, she saw her napkin and said, “What’s this?” I told her it was her napkin. She said, “What do I do with it?”

Some things are understandable. The other night we had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant. She wanted a dessert and asked what they had. I told her they had baklava. She had no idea what that was even after I brought a piece to her. That is not something that is an everyday part of her vocabulary, so I’m not surprised that word is lost.

Quite often she knows what she wants to say but says the wrong word. A couple of days ago, she said, “I don’t want to swim.” She meant “I don’t want to sing.” While working on her iPad last week, she said, “I got two boys. She meant two puzzle pieces. Another time, she was joking with me and said, “I’m going to put it on your bed.” She meant my head. Another time, she said, “I want to yell you something” instead of tell you something. If I could remember, the list would go on and on.

It goes beyond her vocabulary. She is also beginning to struggle putting words together to communicate what she wants to say. She often starts to tell me something but stops because she doesn’t know how to express it. She looks to me to know. Sometimes I do, but often, I don’t.

So, how do I feel about this change? As you would expect, I am disturbed. Alzheimer’s began to affect our conversation very early. That was related to her memory loss. Since she could not remember things, she was left with little to say. For a good while now, she has talked more, but the conversation always revolves around a set of familiar things. We recite these over and over. Despite the repetition, I enjoy being able to converse with her no matter what we talk about. I especially enjoy seeing the pleasure she gets out of it as well. The thought about her losing this ability is one I don’t want to face.

Having said that, I stop and think about how well we have gotten along so far. It really is possible to enjoy ourselves without her having a memory. It would have been quite different if she had also lost her sight, hearing, and feelings for people and the world around her. That has carried us a long way. To adapt a phrase from “Swing Low Sweet Chariot,” I hope it will “carry us home.”

Insecure, Confused, but Happy and Appreciative

It would be quite an understatement to say that Kate is changing more now than at any other time since her diagnosis. Day before yesterday was a good example. Just as I have been adapting to her getting up late, she has surprised me several times over the past week. That morning she was up at 7:30. That’s at least three hours earlier than when I usually begin to wake her. It was also a day when she seemed comfortable with her surroundings. She acted like she knew I was her husband but didn’t. She was very dependent. She wanted my directions on almost every step from getting out of bed to where to go when I got her dressed. She was eager to have a shower, something I was happy about. She often resists.

We made it to Panera before 9:00 where she worked happily on her iPad an hour. Then I noticed that she was not working her puzzles, just sitting and looking a little discouraged. It was obvious she was frustrated. When I looked at what she had done, she had completed all but two pieces and couldn’t figure out where they went. I showed her, but she couldn’t understand. I put them in place for her. I felt sure that she was tired from having gotten up so early. It was early for lunch, but I decided it would be better than going home where she might nap and then have a hard time getting up.

She was quiet on the way to the restaurant. As I was helping her out of the car, she said, “I want to thank you. I feel better.” I told her I didn’t think I had done anything special but that I want to do anything I can to help her. She looked at me very seriously and said, “You do. You have no idea how much.” I am still not entirely sure what she was thinking about. It might have been the way I responded to her when she was frustrated over her puzzle. It could also have been that she imagined something as we were driving to the restaurant. As we walked to the entrance, she stopped as she always does to look and comment on the flowers just outside the door. When our server greeted her and asked her how she was doing, Kate said, “I’m doing much better now.” That’s exactly how it seemed. She was fine the rest of the day.

Eating early allowed us to get back with plenty of time before the sitter. I felt sure she would immediately head to the sofa for a nap. Instead she started working a puzzle on her iPad and continued until just before the sitter arrived. Then she decided to rest on the sofa. That’s where she was when Mary came. She greeted Mary with enthusiasm. When I told her I was leaving for my platelet donation, she smiled and said goodbye. She didn’t look at all unhappy to see me go.

When I returned, she was seated on the sofa looking at a photo book. She said, “We need you.” I took note of the fact that she said “we” and not “I.” Then Mary told me that she had not napped and explained that Kate had wanted to go outside. She stooped down to look at something in the yard or near a shrub, lost her balance, and couldn’t get up. Mary helped her but said it was difficult. I know what she means. I find that it is getting a bit challenging to get her into a sitting position when she is lying on the bed.

From what Mary told me, Kate had been a little upset and confused, but she was calm when I got home. The only problem then was that she was hot from being outside. I got out a small floor fan and used it to cool her off. Fifteen minutes later, she was fine again and ready for dinner.

At dinner we encountered something that is becoming a regular part of our dining experience now. She has difficulty knowing where she should sit. I always walk to her chair and pull it out from the table. I use my hand to direct her to the seat and say something like, “Sit right here.” Almost without exception, she interprets that as my chair and goes to the chair across the table from me. Sometimes I accept the chair she has chosen. When I have a specific reason for choosing a different chair, I may simply take her hand and guide her to the chair I selected. This, and the fact that she is very careful as she takes her seat, means that it takes longer for us to be seated than most hostesses are prepared for. Most of them seemed to be trained to remain at the table until you are seated. Of course, since we are regulars at all the places we visit, the hostesses are well aware of Kate’s diagnosis and are very understanding.

During dinner, Kate talked a good bit about what I do for her and how much she appreciated that. I told her our son was coming for a visit the next day. During our conversation, we spoke very naturally about our marriage. She commented on how happy we had been and then said, “What’s your name?” I told her, and she asked her own name. I am still amazed at how casually she does this. It’s the kind of experience that is both happy and sad. I am happy that she doesn’t seem frustrated, but it is also sad that she can’t remember. It makes me think about all the things she must not know if she is forgetting her own name and mine. What is it like to look around and not know who or what anything is? The good thing is that she still responds intuitively to people and things around her and still likes so many things. She continues to get pleasure out of life. That is something that may be hard for people without dementia to understand.

Later that night when we were in bed, she mentioned how good she feels when she is in Texas. I could tell by the way she said it that she thought she was in Texas at that moment. I didn’t say anything to dissuade her. She was happy. That’s a good way to end the day.

Early Morning Conversations

Day before yesterday, Kate was awake around 3:30. The same thing happened this morning shortly after 4:00. Both days we had the kind of conversation that I have reported on before. She went through the usual questions. “Where am I?” “What’s my name?” “Who are you?” She did not seem anxious at all. In fact, this morning our conversation began when I heard her laugh. I asked what was funny. She said, “The two of us are just lying here.” I’m not certain why that was funny. She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I find that asking “why” questions is always unproductive. She can never come up with an explanation though she sometimes says, “I don’t know.”

Both conversations were very repetitive. By that, I mean that she asked the same questions very closely together over and over though not in rapid-fire succession. They were very relaxed the way you expect for a conversation in the middle of the night. Here’s an example.

Kate:              “Where am I?”

Richard:        “You’re right here in our home. This is where we live.”

Kate:              “Oh, good. <pause> Where am I?”

Richard:        “This is our home. We live here. We’ve lived here for twenty-two years.”

Kate:              “Oh. <pause> Where am I?”

During the conversation, I also mentioned that we live in Knoxville and that we have lived here forty-eight years. Several times she also asked her name as well as mine, but her focus seemed to be on her immediate surroundings.

We talked about forty-five minutes night before last, not as long last night. Each conversation ended when she gradually stopped talking and went back to sleep.

The repetitiveness of her questions is an indication of just how short her short-term memory is at this stage. I have also noticed it in other situations. Sometimes her memory works as though it is controlled by a switch that turns off right after you tell her something. Other times it is like the switch is turned on and off again quickly. For example, yesterday we looked at a few family photos on our entertainment center. She pointed to one of her mother and said, “That’s my mother.” She looked at the next photo of her grandfather and asked who he was. I told her. Then she looked back at the picture of her mother and asked, “Who is she?” We had just seen the picture of her and her brother on the cover of her “Big Sister.” She recognized herself immediately. A few minutes later. we looked at the same picture on the entertainment center, and she didn’t recognize herself. Similarly, she will know my name one minute and not the next. It’s just another mystery of the way the brain works – or doesn’t.

Kate doesn’t always remember I’m her husband, but she still feels secure with me.

It is impossible for me to know how much of the time Kate remembers that I am her husband. I used to be able to identify specific moments when she didn’t. For a while I noticed these moments were longer in duration. More recently, she has brief moments when she knows and doesn’t know. She used to ask my name and our relationship a lot. Sometimes she still does that, but she asks much less frequently than before. She seems to be adapting to not knowing.

What I consider of greatest importance is that she continues to recognize me as someone with whom she is familiar and trusts. Even in those moments when I know she doesn’t remember I’m her husband, she is very comfortable with my helping her with toileting, showering, and dressing. Increasingly, she has become more comfortable just having me around. That has been obvious in her reactions to my returning home after the sitter has been here. In those cases, she has been very relieved when I walked in.

This emotional dependence is also evident in lots of little things that occur on a daily basis. For example, yesterday I had a United Way committee meeting during the lunch hour. Our sitter was scheduled to arrive at 1:00, and I needed to leave the house about 11:30. I asked a church friend, Martha, if she would take Kate to lunch and get her back home for the sitter. Kate has known and liked her for a long time. They used to eat lunch together regularly when Kate was the church librarian and Martha was an assistant to one of the pastors.

It had been at least six months since they had seen each other, and Kate didn’t remember her but had retained a good feeling for her. When Martha arrived, Kate greeted her as naturally as I had hoped. I knew everything would be all right, and it was. Although I had told Kate she would be going to lunch with Martha while I went to my meeting, Kate assumed that I was going to lunch with them. When she discovered I wasn’t, she had a sad look on her face and said, “You’re not going with us?” I told her I was going to a meeting. She said, “I’m going to miss you.” I told her I would miss her too, but I knew that she and Martha would have a good time together. As she got in the car, she said, “I’m almost embarrassed to say it, but I’m going to miss you.”

As I said, this is a little thing, but I took special note of it because she seemed so comfortable with Martha. I hadn’t expected her to be concerned that I wasn’t going with them. I am sure their lunch went well. I haven’t talked with Martha, but I will.

At dinner last night, Kate asked my name. Then she tried to ask our relationship, but she couldn’t figure out how to say it. I said, “ Do you mean ‘How are we related?’” She said yes, and I told her we were married. She said, “No.” I said, “What about being good friends?” She didn’t like that and suggested that we might be like cousins. Then she said, “But that wouldn’t be true.” Then I suggested that she think of me as a helper. At first, she liked that. Then she changed her mind. About that time our food arrived, and we never finished the conversation.

After we were home, I had the impression that she still did not think of us as a married couple. Then our son called. We had a nice conversation with him. Our granddaughter had begun her freshman year at TCU on Monday, and he updated us on how the move had gone. During that conversation, it must have been clear that we are married. She didn’t express any concern or doubts about our relationship the rest of the evening.

It strikes me that she must be experiencing this kind of shift from knowing and not knowing other things as well. That would include other people, our house, and where we are. There were times yesterday that she thought our house was someone else’s house. She has never said anything that suggests she perceives these shifts as strange. What I do recognize are those moments when she doesn’t seem to know anything. That is when her anxiety attacks occur.

This very morning brought another illustration of her dependence on me as a source of security. She had gotten up early to go to the bathroom and gone back to bed. About forty-five minutes later, I heard her call for me. When I reached her, I asked if I could help her. She said, “I don’t know.” In the past, this is what she has said when she was have an anxiety attack. The difference this time is that she didn’t seem to be frightened or unnerved as she has before. I asked her if she would like to bring my things to the bedroom and stay with her. She said she did, and thanked me when I returned. Then she asked my name. I told her. Over the next thirty minutes, she asked the same question again. She didn’t ask, but I got the impression that she didn’t remember our relationship. She did, however, tell me she was glad I was with her. In this case, I wasn’t doing anything but sitting next to her in my chair as she tried to go back to sleep. It took quite a while before she was asleep, but she was relaxed.

In the past few days, I have also noticed an increased desire to hold my hand while we are out. She has said, “I want to make sure I don’t lose you.”

Early Morning Conversation

Kate wanted to go to the bathroom just before 6:00 this morning. As I took her back to bed, she said, “You’re a nice guy. What’s your name?” I said, “Richard.” I helped her in the bed. She said, “I want to thank you. You’re a really nice guy.” I said, “That’s because you’re a really nice gal. I love you.” She said, “I love you too. We’re a good ‘two.’ (I think she meant team. That is something we often say.) <pause> What’s your name?” I said, “Richard.” She said, “What’s my name?”

No wonder I want to do the best I can for her. We love each other, and she needs me.

I spoke too soon.

Not long after uploading my previous post, I went back to the bedroom. I saw that Kate was awake and walked over to her. She was having a similar, but milder, attack like those she experienced the past four mornings. I said, “Are you all right?” She said, “I think so. I don’t know.” I told her I would like to help her if I could. I asked if she would like me to bring my laptop to the bedroom and stay with her. She nodded. I returned and put on some music.

She never went back to sleep. I doubt that she had been to sleep since getting up to go to the bathroom at 7:45. Around 9:30, she sat up on the side of the bed. She was still confused, but she didn’t seem to be troubled the way she was earlier. She said, “What now?” I told her I thought it might be good for her to get dressed and get her something to eat. I mentioned getting a muffin. She didn’t say anything, but she looked as though she had never heard of a muffin.

I helped her to her feet and told her I wanted to show her something. We walked hand-in-hand to the hallway outside our bedroom. We stopped at a picture of her grandmother. I told her this was somebody very important to her. Then I explained that she was the first member of Kate’s family to attend TCU. She was pleased about that. I was glad to see her response because a few days ago I mentioned TCU, and it didn’t mean anything to her. That was a first.

After talking with her about her grandmother, I focused her attention on the next photo. It was her mother when she was around 19 or 20. Kate didn’t recognize her but was taken with the picture. As she often does, she noted her mother’s eyes and smile. She commented more extensively than usual on this and other pictures that I showed her. I can’t remember exactly what she said, but she interpreted her mother’s personality based on what she saw in her mother’s face. By this time, she seemed just fine.

We went on to two other photos, one of her grandfather on her father’s side and then her father. From there we walked into the family room where I showed her a picture of our daughter’s twin boys when they were about 5 or 6. As we entered the room, she said, “You’re really helping me.” She always likes children whether in person or photos. Thus, she was enthralled at the twins’ picture. Again, she tried to interpret their personalities from what she saw.

I took her to the sofa and asked her to sit down so that I could show her something else. I picked up the “Big Sister” album and called her attention to the cover picture. This time she didn’t recognize either herself or her brother, but she was taken with the children, especially their eyes and smiles.

We talked about them for a few minutes. Then she said she was cold. She was still in her nightgown and bare feet. I suggested we get her dressed. I helped her stand up and, as we walked to the bedroom, she said, “I’m bouncing back thanks to you.” I was particularly struck by her recognition that she was “bouncing back.” It had been thirty minutes since she had gotten out of bed. I was surprised that she could remember how she felt that long ago. Once again, we had found our way out of what might have been a crisis. It’s a relief when this happens.

Another Morning of Anxiety

As I have described the past three mornings, yesterday Kate’s memory was almost completely blank again. In some ways this isn’t unusual. Over the past year she has often not known where she is or who she and I are when she wakes. The difference the past few days is the anxiety that accompanies it. In the past, I would tell her. Then she seemed to be all right even though she might ask the same questions again right away. During each of the past few days she has been more concerned, even frightened, about not knowing these things. The first experience on Saturday was the most intense. It also lasted an hour.

Her experience yesterday was different in that it was milder and shorter in duration. She was very sleepy. I didn’t attempt to show her any pictures of her family. I focused primarily on comforting her. I did play the same music I had played the previous days. I got in bed with her. She began to relax and fell asleep within fifteen minutes. I brought my laptop back to the bedroom and stayed with her until it was time for lunch. She was fine when I got her up.

We met one of our associate pastors and his wife for lunch at Casa Bella. Kate has always liked him and his wife. She wasn’t talkative, but she enjoyed being with them. They probably would never have imagined the state she was in a little earlier. Her ability to bounce back is another way in which we have been fortunate.

This morning at 7:45, she started to get up. I went to the bedroom. She was unusually alert and seemed like she didn’t need my help. I walked her to the bathroom and back to bed. She thanked me and said, “You’re really a nice guy.” She is asleep again. We’re off to a good start. I’m hopeful that she will be fine when I get her up for lunch.

Kate may be unsure of who I am, but she believes I am important to her.

I don’t have a clear idea how often Kate remembers that I am her husband. I know it is often enough that I have grown accustomed to her not remembering. For most caregivers this is one of the saddest things that happens as one’s spouse reaches the late stages of Alzheimer’s. That is particularly true the first few times it occurs. That has been my personal experience.

By now I have adapted and accept it. I take comfort in the fact that Kate still recognizes me as someone with whom she is familiar and is important to her. Not a day goes by without my having experiences that tell me that is so. Here are several that happened during the past forty-eight hours.

Night before last when I told her it was time to get ready for bed, she wanted to know where the bathroom was. During the past six months or so, I can’t remember a time when she didn’t ask me that. I led her to the bathroom and pointed out the toilet. I was about to leave her when she told me she wanted me to stay. This, too, is something that is becoming common. She is very unsure of what to do each step. She often asks me, “What next?” I stayed. Before washing her hands, she motioned me to come closer and whispered, “Does she know I’m a woman?” I told her I didn’t know who she was talking about but she and I were the only ones in the house. That worked; she didn’t say anything more. Sometimes she seems to recognize quickly that she has believed something that wasn’t so.

This was another time when she couldn’t understand my instructions about washing her hands. I put soap in her hands and washed them myself. This is just another illustration of her dependence. It’s not consistent, but it is increasing more rapidly than in the past.

After she was in bed, she told me that she was glad I was with her. She thought we were in a strange place and said it was a nice room, but she was feeling better knowing I was there. She began to “work” on her hair, pulling stands from her scalp to the ends. She asked me if it was all right for her to start on the right side and then do the left side of her head. I said, “That would be fine.”

I told her I was going to the family room for a few minutes and that I was not leaving her alone. As I started to walk out the door, she said, “What should I call you if I need you?” I told her my name was Richard. She said, “Okay, Mr. Richard.” I said, “You don’t have to call me mister. You can just call be Richard. She said, “What will he say?” I asked who she was talking about. She said, “You know – the other man.” I told her we were the only people in the house, and it was all right if she just called me Richard. She said, “Okay.” As you know this was far from the first time she had forgotten my name and no doubt our relationship, but over the past week this seems to have occurred for longer periods of time.

When I got into bed a little later, she was still awake. We talked for a few minutes. Then I told her I was going to sleep and said, “I love you.” She laughed. From past experience I knew that she didn’t realize that we are married, just friends. I said, “You usually say you love me too.” She said, “I’m not ready for that.” I said, “You would rather that we just be friends.” She said, “For right now anyway.” We talked a little longer. Then I told her I was ready to go to sleep. I paused and said, “Good night, I love you.” She laughed again.

Yesterday was a day for the sitter. I was relieved when she got up about 8:30. I didn’t have to worry about getting her up. She went back to bed after taking a shower. I let her stay there until 9:30 when I got her dressed. Then we went to Panera. I think this was the third or fourth time in about ten days. We arrived home just ahead of Sandy. I hadn’t said a word to Kate about my leaving. When I got my things together, I told her I was off to Rotary and the Y. She said, “How long are you going to be gone?” I told her it wouldn’t be long, that I was going to Rotary and then to the Y.” She said, “We’ll see.” She wasn’t making much of a protest, but I knew she wished I would stay.

When I go home, she was seated in a chair with her iPad, and Sandy was standing beside her. Kate said, “Oh, good.” It turned out that she had gotten into the store again and Sandy was about to help her get back to her puzzles. Sandy had probably helped her with this a number of times while I was gone. It happens frequently, and Sandy knows how to solve the problem.

Kate is almost always glad to see me. What was interesting this time was just how relieved she was. She breathed a very loud sigh of relief. Then she introduced me to Sandy as her cousin and said, “His name is Richard.” I was a bit surprised that she got my name right after slipping on our relationship. When Sandy left, she said, “I’m so glad to see you.”

Last night we had an experience like the one the previous night when she didn’t realize we were married. We were talking after I had gotten in bed. She said, “This is a nice room.” I said, “I think so too.” Then she said, “I’ve seen worse.” I chuckled. It wasn’t long before we said good night, and I said, “I love you.” Then we had a repeat of the previous night, but she did say, “You’re a nice guy. I like you a lot.” I said, “So you’re glad I’m here.” With emphasis, she said, “Definitely.” That will carry me a long way.

The Intensity of Kate’s Intuitive Abilities

I have often mentioned how much pleasure Kate and I receive because of her intuitive abilities. Recently, I indicated that they seem even more intense now than they used to be. Several things have happened in the past few days that reinforce my belief that they really are more intense now than before. All of them involve behaviors I have previously observed, but they were so much stronger than normal I wanted to pass them along. They are all experiences that involve her emotional response to visual stimuli.

Many of them involve her feelings about trees and flowering plants. She seems enraptured wherever she sees them. The plants on our patio and the trees on the neighbor’s property behind our house get most of her attention. She stops to look at them almost every time she passes through our family room. It also includes the flora she sees whenever we are in the car. This occurs even in areas that I wouldn’t say are especially beautiful, like some of the areas on either side of a highway. One of those instances happened at Chalupas Monday night. As we entered the restaurant, she saw two large pots with a grassy plant similar to liriope. They looked desperate for water. She immediately reacted to them and told the server who greeted us how beautiful they were. They have been in the same place for as long as I can remember, but this was the first time she has reacted to them.

The strength of her feelings is illustrated in a variety of other ways. She bought a ceramic cat many years ago that she used to keep in the bath off our our laundry room. It was something of a surprise to visitors who saw it at the base of the toilet. I moved it to the family room sometime in the past year or so. It now resides on the floor near the doorway from the family room to the kitchen. We pass by it every time we leave the house. It is only recently that she has taken special notice of it. Now she stops and says hello each time she walks by. A couple of weeks ago, she said we ought to give him a name. The next time she walked by him I told her his name is Pepper for Dr. Pepper since that is her favorite drink. She can’t remember the name, but she always likes it when I tell her.

She also takes greater interest in family photos each day. Two of those are of our daughter in her wedding gown that sit on a dresser in our bedroom. They catch her eye every morning. She doesn’t remember they are of our daughter, but she loves looking at her and her smile. The other pictures are grouped together as we leave the family room. Two of them are of our son when he was a child. Another is a picture of me when I was about twelve. There is one more of her father. It has become a ritual to stop and look at these photos each time we go out. She surprised me yesterday morning when she saw her father. She said, “I know who that is.” I said, “Who?” She said, “My father.” That was the first time I recall her recognizing this photo of him. On several occasions recently, she has picked up the photos of our son and asked if she could take them with us. I let her take them to the car. Once we are in the car, she usually gives them to me. I find a secure place to put them and return them to the house when we get home. The walk through our family room is turning out to be something that energizes her as we leave.

Night before last, she went to the bathroom before we went to dinner. She noticed a ceramic container with artificial flowers beside the sink. She had purchased it on our last trip to Fort Worth. Until last night, I don’t remember her saying anything about it. But she brought it to me. She said she loved it and asked if she could take it with us. I told her she could. It remained in the car until we got home when I brought it inside and put it back where she had found it. She not only received pleasure from seeing it but also being able to take it with her.

Another example occurred after lunch yesterday. As I turned into the driveway, she was puzzled about why we were here. I said, “This is our house. You’ll recognize it once we are inside.” I gave her a tour of the house similar to what I have done a couple of times in the past but much shorter. I pointed out a portrait of her grandfather and another of her mother, wedding photos of her and our daughter Jesse, and other artwork. She raved about everything she saw but never responded as though she had ever been here before.

When we circled around to the family room, she wanted to rest. She lay down on the sofa looking toward the backyard. She responded to that with enthusiasm. In addition, she looked around the room, and commented on how much she said she liked it. She said, “This is beautiful, and I haven’t even seen the rest of the house.” I told her I would be glad to show it to her. She said, “Not right now. Maybe tomorrow. I just want to rest.” And that is just what she did for the next three hours. She started working on her iPad but put it down after a few minutes. She was never asleep. I offered to go through family photo books, but she preferred to lie there. Like the day before, she was content. By the way, the battery on her iPad was at 81% of capacity this morning when I brought it to the kitchen to be charged. That makes three days in a row that the iPad hasn’t seen much use.

Experiences like these are not only important for her, but they are for me as well. It is sad that the tour of half the house did not jog her memory at all. On the other hand, she enjoyed the house tour. It’s an illustration of how each of us is still able to provide pleasure for the other. At this stage of her Alzheimer’s, that is priceless.